The Ring
by SerepentineRazors
Summary: A Nord man named Var joins the Imperial legion and ventures into Reachcliff Cave, home to the Shrine of Namira, Daedric Prince of Darkness. What will he find within, horror or perhaps something else?
1. The Fly and the Spider

**I own nothing. This is written purely for fun and not for monetary gain in any way, shape, or form.**

_**Part 1. Bargains in the Dark **_

**Chapter 1: The Fly and the Spider**

Var walked slowly into the entrance of Reachcliff cave. He glanced about, wary of what might be lurking inside. After lighting a torch and readying his Imperial issue blade, he took his first steps into the almost tangible darkness. This was not the first time he'd ventured into ruins like this, however it was the first time he'd ever done so in the name of the Empire.

He'd grown up in the slums of Markarth, abandoned at an early age. Life was tough, though that was true for most in Skyrim. Living on the streets had in a way strengthened him some, preparing him for the harshness of the world he lived in. He took to the blade early, and managed to make a decent living doing some mercenary work. Nothing too shady, he believed in the Divines and tried to live a decent life.

Mercenary work was risky though, and the pay was inconsistent. All of his applications to join the guard had been denied. To be a guard you had to come from a reputable family or have a friend in the system. Var had no friends at all, let alone any with connections. He'd always had trouble relating to others. He was a quiet and thoughtful man, the drink most of his kinsman enjoyed held little appeal to him, as did the music and women they also indulged in. He preferred to be on his own.

However, as he ventured into the tomb he began to wish someone else was with him. He kept glancing behind his back, wary of the draugr. He could sense something was not right, all of the draugr here were dead. They were not dead in the normal sense, but dead as having been re-killed by someone. He could see where they had risen from their crypts, and fought with some attacker. Many appeared to be blown apart by some powerful force, others were hacked to pieces by what appeared to be a sword, and some were felled by magics.

Someone else had already been here, that was clear. He was not wholly surprised by that, when the Legate at Markarth had ordered him to inspect the cave he had told him that the guards reported seeing a person traveling with the priest on his way to the cave. The priest had never returned, and that was the source of alarm. Of course, people disappeared all the time. The wilds of Skyrim were dangerous and for the most part uncivilized, people died every day. Still, it was unusual that a competent magic user like a priest would just vanish.

Fear crept into his mind as he continued deeper. He was a good swordsman, but if this person had managed to coerce a priest into traveling here and then managed to kill him and all of the draugr, he must be a powerful individual indeed. Secretly, Var hoped to find nothing, and that the murderer had fled the scene. He did not want to die for the Empire, he just wanted his pay.

He saw more and more slain draugr as he continued on. He noticed it seemed to get darker and darker, as though the shadow in the air was closing in on him. He'd never experienced anything like it before, and he was no amateur adventurer. He began to contemplate the possibilities. He hoped that it was all a misunderstanding, that the priest never came to this cave as the guards had overheard him say he was going to. He also hoped that it was just some treasure hunter that cleared this place out in search of lost Nord gold. But, deep down he also feared the worst. What if some Necromancer was down here doing dark experiments? What if the Stormcloak Talos fanatics had murdered the priest and had set up a base in the cave, what would they do to a man in Imperial uniform? What if it had something to do with the Dragons?

He shook these fears off; it would do him no good to be afraid. He could not turn back now; soldiers that disobeyed orders did not get paid and were often jailed. He eventually came to a large door. He could almost feel the darkness the closer he got to it. Knowing there was no alternative; he swung the door open and stepped into a large chamber.

At the center was a large stone table, littered with bits of rotten human flesh and dishes. More horrible still were the corpses, several bodies were scattered about the room. All were rotting and had sword wounds. He had never expected this. Who was behind this? What was this? Necromancy? He stepped into the room further. The place looked abandoned; whoever had done this was long gone. Suddenly, Var noticed what was at the far end of the room. It appeared to be some sort of altar.

The priest was on the altar. He was dead, and rotting, as the others in the room were. Var sighed, somewhat relieved that nothing appeared to be in the room. He was alone with the dead. He walked over to the priest, turning him over. An amulet of the Divines was on his neck, so he was definitely the priest. Turning away from the priest, he looked up to inspect the altar. Above the platform where the dead priest lay, a grotesque figure of a woman was carved into the altar

He scanned the room, ensuring no one alive was there with him. Satisfied, he sat down at an empty place at the table to rest for a minute; it had been a long journey. He took the canteen from his pack, and sipped on the water. Another man would likely have fled the room, disturbed by what he had encountered, but Var was not really bothered by the grisly scene before him. He had a rather high tolerance for gore, living alongside filth and violence in the slums had for the most part desensitized him. It would take more than a few rotting corpses to turn his stomach.

Var was a brave man. But, there were things that could unnerve him. As he sat trying to collect his thoughts and rest, a voice spoke to him. A sultry female voice that seemed to come from within his very head said, "Why, hello there. I am impressed; there are not many who are able to sit comfortably at My dinner table".

At that sound, he sprung up and saw a figure sitting on the floor next to one of the corpses. The woman appeared to be young, in her twenties. She wore black robes, but her pale face was visible and raven black hair framed it. Her features were almost too perfect, as if she was a painting of a woman and not an actual one. Her dark eyes were cruel, and she grinned maliciously at Var as he stared at her with dark surprise. She spoke again, this time her voice coming from her mouth and not inside his head, "I am Namira, Lady of Decay. And... you are?"


	2. The Man and the Goddess

**I own nothing. This is written purely for fun and not for monetary gain in any way, shape, or form.**

**Chapter 2: The Man and the Goddess**

"Well?", the woman asked. Var stood gawking at her, that was all he could manage to do. He was taken completely by shock at her sudden appearance. How did she get here? Who was she? Namira... isn't that the name of one the Daedra? Did she do all of this? Question after question popped into his mind, but he knew keeping silent would not help him. It would likely anger whoever this strange woman was.

"I...I... my name is Var", he replied nervously.

"Hmm, Var. I like it, short and simple. So, tell me, Var, what brings you to my Shrine?"

Var was becoming more and more aware of who exactly it was he was speaking to. He recalled a book he read while staying at the Silver-Blood Inn about the Daedric Princes. He now remembered Namira was the Prince of Darkness, though what that meant he was not entirely sure. In any case, all of the Daedra were dangerous and he thought it unwise to do anything to upset this one. He decided to be as respectful as possibly. He knew that Daedra normally had a hard time directly influencing the mortal realm, so she likely was not going to harm him. He would answer her questions and be polite; there was little else he could do.

"My Lady, I was not aware this was a shrine. I was merely doing some scouting work for the Imperial Legion."

Namira grinned, "Ah, yes. You are wearing the uniform I suppose. That foolish priest disappearing must have caused a bit of a stir, no?"

He nodded at her, not wanting to meet her penetrating gaze. He noticed that her hands were absentmindedly stroking the hair of one of the corpses, a blond woman.

She sighed, "It is a mess in here, is it not? So many faithful, dead."

"Who did this?" After speaking Var began to regret it, it was probably not a good idea to question an entity like Namira. However, she did not seem to mind.

"That Dragonborn. Pity, I had hoped he would have used his power to aid me and my Realm. Should have known better, I suppose. The so called great ones hardly ever have the stomach for myself. He..., or was it a she? , took my Ring and then turned on my servants."

"The rumors are true then? The Dragonborn has come?"

"Yes. The Dragonborn passed through Markarth, you know, you may have even run into him."

"What?...how do you know I am from Markarth?"

The fell lady flashed another grin at Var, "Child, I see all where there is filth and shadow. I know you are from the Warrens. The reek of my Realm is upon you."

In Namira's presence, Var felt like he never had before. He was unnerved at the intimate way she glared at him, as though she could see into his very soul and knew more about him than he did himself. But, at the same time it was somewhat comforting. He had never had a family, but there had been those who had shown him some amount of kindness. A farmer that let him stay in his shed for the night, a baker who had tossed him a loaf of bread, an old noblewoman who had handed him her son's old clothes. The way he had felt about those people, with a sense of camaraderie and caring, was the same way he felt about Namira. He was beginning to let himself become more relaxed.

Var did not have long to contemplate his situation, for the woman began to speak again.

"Tell me, Var, what is it about you that allows you gaze upon me with neither fear nor revulsion? That is rather unusual, you know. I'm widely considered to be a monster by most in Skyrim."

"I... well, you have made no moves to harm me since I have entered your shrine, lady. And if you are going to kill me, you probably would have done so already, and I doubt there is much I could do about it anyway, you are a Goddess."

Namira rolled her eyes and cackled. "A wise answer, I suppose. No point in opposing a Divine in her own Temple. She smiled, "You know, it has been sometime since a mortal called me a Goddess, even my own followers do not typically hold me to be on the same level as the Nine."

Var relaxed a little in his seat. In the back of his mind he still feared the strange woman, but that fear got smaller and smaller as he talked with her.

"Well, I could not really comment on that, my lady. You are the first God I have ever met."

She laughed again."I cannot say that I am surprised. The Aedra are far more stuffy and uptight than me and my kin, and my brothers and sisters rarely make an appearance in this part of the world, much too cold."

"If I may ask, why are you here then, my lady?"

"Oh, I have a small coven here, or well used to. I try to make an appearance every once in awhile, keep the faithful faithful, if you know what I mean. And talking to the Dragonborn was too juicy of an opportunity to pass up. Though, sadly that did not go as well as I had hoped. He killed the priest as instructed, even took a bite, but made off with my Ring as soon as I gave it to him. Mortals are so very fickle".

Var now understood what had happened. He had heard of Daedric artifacts before, prizes awarded by the Princes to those who served them, the Ring must be some sort of artifact. He had figured cannibalism had occurred here when he saw the meat on the table, and Namira had just confirmed that. Var was not altogether disgusted though, growing up hungry in the streets had made him consider such things before. It had never come to that, but he was by no means squeamish about that sort of thing. Namira was considered to be an evil deity, it made sense that her followers engaged in murder and acts considered by most to be taboo and profane.

He considered what to say then. He was wary of offending Namira, but at the same time felt comfortable around her.

Cautiously, he asked, "Are you upset about your coven being killed?"

She shrugged, "More will come, they always do. I try not to get too attached to my mortals, it never ends well. Once I was overly involved with a mortal prince, that... well, it is a long story that I would rather not get into."

"Yes, I suppose you must have many followers."

"Not as many as I should. It truly is a travesty how widely my gifts are rejected. Just last week I sent a plague to Falinesti and I received not a single prayer in thanks. "

"Yes... well, I imagine not many are grateful for sickness." She glared at him angrily then, and his fears returned. He knew he had crossed a line, and was more than a little worried about what the repercussions would be.

"Sickness?! I give more than ill health. It is in diseases that you mortals learn to truly appreciate what it means to be in good health; it is in pain that you see what is real. Health, prosperity, life are all so very fragile. I merely remove the wool from your eyes, and show you the truth. There is no permanence, permanence is a delusion." Namira spoke with a somewhat irritated tone, but did not appear to be overly angry. She talked as though scolding an impertinent child.

Var was startled, what the woman said made since in a twisted way. He had grown up in suffering and rags, he appreciated every small joy life had given him. It was men who had grown up in comfort that made the world such a bleak place, men like Ulfric Stormcloak and the Emperor, men in such lofty conditions that they could not begin to comprehend the suffering caused by their petty political maneuvers.

Namira smiled at him. "Ah, you are beginning to see it, aren't you? I can see it in your eyes, child. You know I speak the truth."

**Author's Note**

_Hey, all. I'd really appreciate it if you would review my story and let me know what you think. I am desperate for some feedback. I'm hoping to post a new chapter everday, but I'm not entirely sure yet. Do you like the chapter length or would you prefer that they were longer? Also, please let me know if you see any mistakes, I haven't had anyone else proofread it before I post. _

_Thanks for reading,_

_SerpentineRazors_


	3. The Priest and the Prince

**I own the rights to nothing. This is written purely for fun and not for monetary gain in any way, shape, or form. No copyright infringement intended. **

**Chapter 3: The Priest and the Prince**

Namira grinned hellishly at him, licking her lips. "The truth can be hard to... swallow at first. Though, I think you will find you always knew it, merely were unwilling to see, needed someone to help you connect the dots."

Var avoided her gaze; his fears were beginning to return. A sick feeling crept into his stomach as he considered the words of Namira. What she said went against everything he had believed in, he had believed in the teachings of the Divine. But, deep down he could see the reason in what she said, and that frightened him more than anything else had in his entire life.

The woman left her spot on the floor and stood, taking a few steps towards Var. "The only salvation is in darkness, Var. The light blinds and distorts, only in the shadow can the clear image be seen. What is the point in aspiration? How is a castle better than a beggar's roll? How is a king's feast any different than rotted meat? In the end, all will return to dust. I breathe the rot into the world, in the end all return to void. To seek to rise above revulsion and squalor is futile; the truly wise embrace the horrible."

Var stiffened and looked down; he did not want to believe what he was hearing. Was life pointless? Was he no better off now than he had been living in a gutter? Was Namira right? Everything he had experienced confirmed what she said, but still he could not accept it. To give in to her despair was unthinkable.

She walked closer to him; he noticed the air around him darken as she approached. The shadows clung to her and followed her about the room. Namira now stood directly in front of him; he kept his gaze down to the floor, unwilling to face the fell deity. She gingerly placed one of her hands upon his shoulder, as a mother would to comfort her son. Her flesh felt like ice, and it was all he could do not to recoil.

She spoke again. "Var, do not fear the truth, and do not fear one who openly tells you the truth. Is honesty evil? Is a blissful delusion better than a harsh reality? You know the answer."

Regaining his composure slightly, Var began to contemplate his situation. He wondered if what he was thinking and feeling was all some trick, the Daedra were crafty and magic was capable of manipulating one's very mind. However, he also saw the reason in what Namira said. Despair overtook him, but he also felt at peace. He saw the world clearly now, as one only can in the dark. He looked up at Namira, gazing into her cold eyes as dark as void. He no longer feared her.

In a slow thoughtful tone, Var began to speak. "If what you are saying is true. Then what purpose is there to life? If everything I accomplish will eventually fade, why do anything at all?"

She smiled softly down at him. "Child, do not fret, true purpose can only be found in the darkest of despairs. Think of the depths you can explore, the nightmares to which you can venture into, the hells you can experience. Think of how meaningless and wretched you can make your existence, and think of how wonderful it would be to expose your new reality to others. Cruelty is kindness, to the enlightened."

Var was mesmerized by Namira, he had never felt more at home than he did at that moment. All of the pain, all of the suffering, and all of his misery was a blessing. He was not impoverished; he was richer than the Emperor himself.

Namira saw this realization in his eyes, and saw her opportunity. Like a spider she had ensnared this Nord man in her web, and now she was about to make her final strike.

"Var, I can give you purpose. You are a child of my Realm, you can see to the spreading of it. Help me help Tamriel, let us bring them into the soothing dark together. Times are changing, and I see a great opportunity for us on the horizon."

Var was unsure what to think, he felt a sense of hopelessness, but also one of comfort. More than anything though, he felt at home. He was unsure what Namira meant by saying he could help her, he was just a man. How could a poor and unimpressive Nord such as himself be of any use to a Daedric Prince? He was not Jarl, he was not Dragonborn, he was just a hired sword.

With uncertainty he questioned Namira. "How... how can I be of any use to you? You are a God; I am but a man, and a rather unexceptional man at that."

She smiled sweetly down at him, and took his face in her hands. Her touch no longer bothered him.

"Do not think so little of yourself. Your comprehension of my truth makes you more powerful than any Man or Mer in all of Tamriel. I see the potential for greatness in you, not the greatness others usually recognize, but a greatness hidden in the dark. Everyone notices a King in a lofty palace, but a monster hidden in the caverns of the deep places is rarely thought of. Except, of course, when he emerges from his den. You will be my Champion, Var."

Namira stepped back and cupped her hands before Var. Reality seemed to warp inside of her hands and a disturbing miasma of light flashed in the air for a moment. A ring was now present in her grasp. It was simple, made of stone and with what appeared to be some batwing design instead of a gem.

The Deadra's voice changed. It seemed to take on a more ethereal quality and the darkness in the room intensified. "Var, child of darkness, I offer you a chance to be my champion. Such a position is not to be taken lightly; if you fail me you will feel my wrath. I am neither a kind nor benevolent God. I expect complete devotion to me and my cause. However, the rewards for walking my path are great. Darkness takes care of its own. What say you? Will you serve me?"

Var pause for a moment. What were his options? Turn down Namira? Return to the legion and his mediocre life?... Or should he accept the offer? What would such a deity ask of him? Could he find satisfaction in the despair she offered? Was this his one opportunity to understand the world and the suffering that seemed to be around every corner?

Extending his hand slowly, Var took the ring from Namira's hand. "I will serve you... forever."

Namira smiled at him.


	4. Company and Misery

**I own the rights to nothing. This is written purely for fun and not for monetary gain in any way, shape, or form. No copyright infringement intended. **

**Chapter 4: Company and Misery**

Var was surprised. He did not feel any different and ring in his palm felt ordinary. The craftsmanship of it was not even that exceptional, the stone was rough and of unremarkable quality. What did it mean to be Namira's champion? What had he gotten himself into? Doubt crept into his mind, what the Daedra had said made sense, but his fears were slowly returning. He knew there was no turning back and renouncing his oath would likely lead only to his own undoing. He has sold his soul.

Namira stepped back from Var, smiling at him cruelly. Her features were too perfect and her smile too even. It was unnerving to be in her presence. He now realized what he had thought were robes that clothed Namira was actually just darkness. Shadows clung to her form and gave her the appearance of being garbed. Light dared not penetrate where this entity willed it not to. An almost tangible silence formed in the air between them. It became apparent that Namira was not going to break it, so Var decided to take his chances and speak. He had so many questions.

"My...my, lady... what now? I...I am not sure I understand."

"Ah, dear child, of course you do not. Doubts too are a part of my realm. One knows darkness is in the shadow, but was else lurks beneath? You will find yourself becoming more accustomed to uncertainty as you progress, my champion. But know that decay is certain, and that fact renders all else immaterial. Find your comfort in that."

"Yes..., my lady."

Namira chuckled at him and then clicked her tongue in mock annoyance.

"You're going to have to stop all of this, "my lady", nonsense. I do not mind if you do it in front of others, for appearances, but we're going to become far too... intimate for such formality."

Var was both disturbed and comforted by Namira's voice. She spoke in a sultry tone that teased him, but at the same time he was pleased that she felt comfortable doing so, like how a child is comforted by the mild teasing of his elder siblings. It was also flattering how she suggested friendship and companionship between them; he had always felt so alone. Now, Var felt conflicted. He was both fearful and eager to find out what being her champion entailed. He had to question her; for once again dark silence engulfed the room. She merely stared at him, with eyes that suggested age and wisdom beyond the comprehension of any mortal.

"Yes, my la...yes. So, what now?"

"Now? Hmm, I suppose we've talked long enough. My realm is more of action and experience than words. I am no Mora or Dagon; you'll find no Namiran bible. Anyway, I suppose a task is in order. We must start somewhere, mustn't we? Hmm, we need to rebuild the coven... but that will take rearranging on my part first... a more secure shrine is also needed... but, I suppose for now, you'll need to do something rather small, to further my realm. But, more importantly, to increase your understanding of what it is I, and you, stand for."

"What do I need to do?"

"I'll get to that. But, first you need to put on my ring."

Var looked down to the ring he held in his right hand. He had almost forgotten about the ring. He noticed the stone remained ice cold, even though he had been holding it for some time now. This was no ordinary ring.

"What does it do?"

She grinned. "Oh, what doesn't it do? You'll find it is more... subtle than the other artifacts given out by my siblings. The ring brings you closer to my realm and rewards you when you serve me. You will find the darker you are the more potent that ring becomes. Also, know that you will find it hard to... dispose of. You made a promise to me that I intend to hold you to."

Var took the ring in his left hand. He was very nervous. Slowly he pushed the ring down onto his right ring finger. It was not uncomfortable and seemed to be just the perfect size. It had felt uncomfortably cold when he had held it in his palms, but now it felt as though it were a part of his body. He tried to pull it off, to examine it again, but found that the ring squeezed his finger painfully when he tried to remove it. Saying it would be hard to dispose of was an understatement, it would be impossible.

Namira seemed not to notice his attempt to remove the ring and clapped her hands together in sarcastic jubilation.

"Fits nice, doesn't it? I'm sure you will see what I mean about its power soon. But, that will come later. Now we will discuss your task. I want you travel to an Inn. I need you to meet with a... colleague of mine. Show him the ring, he will tell you what to do next. The Inn is called the Old Hroldan, I'm sure you have heard of it. The person you are meeting will be the only Khajiit there. I will be keeping my eye on you, and will see you again once you complete your assignment. My power is limited outside of my shrine, so be careful. There is only so much I can do to aid you."

The moment she finished her sentence, Namira vanished. The room seemed less dark and the ominous feeling that had been grating at his mind and stomach was no longer present. He was alone.

He inhaled deeply, trying to comprehend all that had just occurred. He noticed that the body of the priest on the altar had vanished; along will all of the corpses and blood in the room. A neat pile of supplies was now upon the altar. A small traveling pack with a few days rations, black cotton robes, and a steel dagger with a wrist strap. The small size and concealable nature of the weapon meant it was made for an assassin.

After eating a small meal from the pack, Var changed into his new clothes. The robes were comfortable and warm. The hood allowed him conceal his face if he so chose. He wondered if wearing robes was such a good idea, they appeared to offer less protection than armor. But, he figured it was best not to question Namira.

He sat back down at the table, trying to think. It all seemed so unreal. A few hours ago he was a petty soldier, now he was Daedric Champion. What was it he was going to have to do at the Inn? What could an apathetic entity like Namira possibly want? Should he run to the nearest way shrine and renounce the oath he made to the Daedra? Why did he feel more at home now than he ever had before? Why did he now in the dark not feel alone?

_Author's Note_

_Hey, all. I'm impressed with the number of views this story has gotten. I would love to hear what you think about it and what feedback you have to offer. Is it interesting, or is the whole concept too weird? Does it make sense? Does what I'm doing with the chapter titles make sense? I think I have most of the story planned out, but am completely open to suggestions. Please review, it would make my day and encourage me to write more._

_Thanks for reading,_

_SerpentineRazors_


	5. The Dirty and the Filthy

**I own the rights to nothing. This is written purely for fun and not for monetary gain in any way, shape, or form. No copyright infringement intended. **

_**Part 2. Trials by Shadow**_

**Chapter 5: The Dirty and the Filthy**

Var could barely even think about what had just occurred, so he ventured out of the cave. He considered returning to the Legion, but whenever that idea crossed his mind the ring began to painfully tighten around his finger. Going to the Inn seemed to be the only option. The place was in the Reach, so the journey would not take a terribly long time, and he would not have to venture into any Stormcloak occupied areas.

The hiking helped clear his mind, though that did not really do him any good. It was hard even then for him to wrap his head around his meeting with Namira. But, he realized it did feel good to finally have some kind of purpose. For so long he had wandered about with no real goals or objectives. Even joining the Legion had just been a means to make some coin. He smiled at that thought. She had said true purpose was only found in her darkness.

He tried not to think too much about what he was going to have to do, that only worried him. Daedric dealings were almost always dangerous. It was unlikely he was just running a simple errand. Still, worrying too much would not do him any good. It was probably best to just deal with what he had to at the moment; the future would be what it would be.

Var arrived at the Old Hroldan shortly before nightfall. He barely spoke to the innkeeper. He merely tossed the coin on the counter, dozens of Septims had been in his pack, and asked if any Khajiit were staying here. The woman told him none were, and then went into a longwinded story about how an Emperor had once stayed at the Inn. Var remained silent, and after a few moments of rambling the woman led him to his room.

He sat on the bed, wondering when his contact was going to arrive or if he even was going to. Var was not an outright racist as many of his kin were, but he did think somewhat less of the beast races. Most of the Khajiit were crooks and drug dealers, after all. He ate a brief meal provided by the Inn, rested for a bit on the bed, and then heard a knock on his door. The voice was unmistakably khajiit.

"Pardon me, madam, but may I come in?" Without waiting for his reply, the feline man entered the room and closed the door behind him. Var noticed he was wearing traveling clothes and had a blue hood pulled about his face, obscuring his features. More striking, however, was what he carried. It appeared to be some kind of staff, but it was wrapped completely in brown cloth.

The khajiit's features contorted for a moment and a look of anger flashed across his face. "Who are you? You are not Mistress Aeola, you are not even female." The man quickly drew a dagger from with his right hand, his left lowered the staff into a combative pose. "Speak quickly, before I slash your throat."

Var had mixed emotions. The khajiit's aggressive actions alarmed him, but also made it clear that this was the person he was supposed to meet. Only someone involved in dark dealings would act in that manner. He considered drawing his own dagger, he was rather proficient in blade craft, but the moment the idea crossed his mind the ring squeezed him. That was obviously not what Namira wanted him to do. He would have to be diplomatic. Var figured that one of Namira's other followers had been intended to meet this khajiit, so he was understandably suspicious when another came in their stead.

"I... my name is Var. I apologize for alarming you... I imagine someone else was originally going to meet you here. But, plans have changed. I come on the orders of... Lady Namira."

"You think Kesh is a fool?! How do I know you are who you say you are and not some spy? My Patron and the dark lady are allies, but the others often work against us. What proof do you have, Nord man?"

Var thought for a moment, he was at a loss. Then, the ring squeezed lightly on his finger, and he realized what to do. He slowly raised up his right hand, showing the stone ring to the Khajiit. As soon as he did so, the feline man lowered his staff and sheathed his dagger.

"Ah, my most sincere apologies. One cannot be too careful these days. I will try to be quick, it is better if we speak little and I get on my way. I assume you know as much as I do, so I will not repeat what we both know. I... well, have the staff. Your sister was right about that Imperial in Windhelm, it was in the basement of that museum. Poor fool did not even know what it was. Anyway, that is beside the point. No need to bore you with the details."

The khajiit then walked closer to Var and extended the swaddled rod to him. It was obvious he wanted Var to take it, and the ring seemed to be encouraging Var to do so. He slowly reached out and grasped the staff, it felt as though it were made of wood. The Elsweryian then turned to leave, but Var still had so many questions he wanted to ask him.

"Wait! What... what am I supposed to do with this?"

The khajiit seemed irritated. "How am I supposed to know? I did my part. I was only supposed to acquire the staff; you are supposed to use it. Are you sure the Lady sent you? Usually her servants seem more... competent. Now, I really must go. The Imperials watch the roads so closely these days, and with the dragons about traveling in the wild is dangerous." With that, the Khajiit left the room in a flash, leaving Var alone with the staff.

He inspected the object that seemed to be the point of his journey. It had the general shape of a mage's staff, but seemed lighter than one of those. However, he could really discern little about it, the brown cloth obscured the mysterious wand. He considered unwrapping it, but the ring was adamantly against that.

Var had only been sitting with the staff for a few minutes when the candles in the room flashed out and the temperature dropped. An all too familiar voice began speaking inside of his head.

"Ah, very good, Var. I see you've accomplished the first part of your little chore. Tell me, how did you like Kesh? He is a complete fool, you know, but I suppose we should talk about that later. Anyway, you need to leave the Inn now. There is only so much darkness left and I need you to be in Whiterun as soon as possible. Once you get there, use the ring."

Instantaneously, the temperature returned to normal and the alien presence in his mind vanished. Once again, Var was in shock. In spite of this, he knew he had to comply. If Namira said he needed to leave now, it was so. He got up, grabbed his pack, and quickly left the Inn, not bothering to tell the Innkeeper. He continued walking throughout the night and on into the next day.

His mind was focused on a single thing, following his orders. There really were no other options. He was beginning to see that and found it harder and harder to even contemplate disobedience. Namira was his mistress and he was her servant. That was becoming an unquestionable fact. He slept briefly during the day and ate very little. The hunger pains and fatigue did not really bother him; his mind was concentrating on his task, not material comforts.

In his heart he longed to find out what it was he was going to be doing. More and more he wanted to please Namira and to earn her favor. Her approval was all that mattered. When he thought like this he felt stronger, and the ring seemed to warm around his finger.

He lost track of time, but one morning around a dawn he approached Whiterun. He was up on a hill and could see the surrounding farms and their fields of crops. The harvest season was approaching. Food was scarce in Skyrim, but there were moderately temperate areas were crops could be grown. The Whiterun hold was often known as the breadbasket of Skyrim, due to most of these areas being located there.

The ring seemed to hold him in place on top of that hill. Namira's whispering voice began to sound inside of his mind. This was the first time he was actually eager to hear it; he longed to hear her instructions and hoped for her praise.

"It is sad, is it not Var?"

He was confused. She sounded almost mournful. He did not have a clue what she was talking about, and feared she would be angered by his ignorance.

"Umm, sad? I do not think I understand"

She sighed. She did not sound angry, just disappointed. "Of course not, Var. But, that is why we are here. This is as much a part of your education as it is act of furthering my influence. Do you see all of the crops out there? All of the worked soil? All the endless hours of toil that went into growing those fields?"

"Yes... I do. But, why is that important?"

"It is not, that is the problem. These farmers cling to their craft and their food, ever fearing starvation and death. These fields supply the whole of Skyrim, their sustenance is a drug to the masses, a national skooma, as it were."

"The... food is bad?"

"Not inherently, but fear of your doom is. Hunger is one of the sweetest pains life has to offer, is it not a shame that these people are not allowed to enjoy it? Would it not be grand if someone removed temptation from their path and allowed them to fall into blissful famine? That is why we are here, Var. Also... the strife caused will lead to... opportunities for you and me. Now, I want you to unwrap the staff."

Var did as instructed. The thought of so many people dying from hunger sickened him, but at the same time he could see the benefits of destroying the crops. The War would be to some degree interrupted, an army marched on its stomach after all. Was dying from starvation any worse than people dying by the sword? Would a more immediate and important concern like a food shortage lead to peace? He could not say, but knew that disobeying Namira was off the table. He could not balk her.

The staff was plain looking. The rod came up to his shoulders and was made of what appeared to be very and old and very dead wood. It was not even really carved; it seemed to just be an unusually smooth branch. Namira spoke to him again.

"Ah, now that is a truly beautiful instrument, the Plague Staff of Master Vavock Nelovius. He was a Dunmer Lord and High Sorcerer. That weapon was forged by him to be used as a last resort against his enemies; it only has one use in it. Now, Var, take the staff in your right hand and press it to the ground. My ring will do the rest."

Nervously, Var took the Plague Staff in his right hand and slowly lowered it to the ground. He waited. Nothing seemed to be happening; the staff did not even feel magical. He gazed out from his high vantage point and could hear the first roosters crowing. The farmers would be out to begin the harvest soon.

Suddenly, the rod began to shake in his grasp. He could feel the ring pressing into the wood, forcing him to maintain his hold. Looking out, he saw a terrible transformation happening in the fields. The crops were all dying. Wheat withered and fell from the stalks, vegetables browned and blackened, and even the grass wasted away. Everything growing as far as his eyes could see was dying. The staff fell apart in his grasp as the spell neared completion, its magic spent.

Namira chuckled in his mind. "Ah, Var, this is the most beautiful thing I have seen in an age. Look at those plants die! And this is just the beginning, with no food, more than plants will start to wither." The Daedra started cackling.

Var could not believe his eyes. Did he really just do that? How could he wield that kind of magic? He knew what he had just done was monstrous. His stomach lurched as he heard the screams of some woman; doubtless it was a farmer's wife waking to the realization that her family's entire farm was now a wasteland. He had never felt so guilty and horrible in his entire life. He had killed an unimaginable number of innocent people and for no reason. He was a grown man, but he felt like crying.

A strange sensation overtook him, it seemed as though spectral arms had taken him in an embrace. He pressed his face into the invisible shoulder and stifled back tears. The figure that held him was as cold as stone, soon he was shivering. Namira cooed at him.

"Shh, shh, shh, dear one. Do not fret so. I know it is much to take in, I do understand. However, know that I am proud of you. I do hope you can find some consolation in that. You did very well."

Var pulled away and stood up straight. Oddly, he did feel better. The sense of guilt he had felt was still there, but it was overshadowed by Namira's praise. No one in his entire life had ever said they were proud of him before. A wave of pleasure washed over him at her words. Someone thought his life was worth something. He felt loved.

He turned and ran away from Whiterun. He knew the guard would be out soon inspecting the area and trying to figure out what had happened. The ring did not react to his quick dash, so he knew Namira must approve. He would seek shelter and wait for her to contact him again.

Var thought that moment could not come soon enough. Guilt and unease grated at his mind, but he longed to hear her voice again.

All too soon, he would.

_Author's note_

_Hey, all. Sorry for not posting a new chapter in awhile, I was spending some time figuring out where this story is going to go. At this point, I envision there being 4 sections each with 4 chapters. This chapter marks the beginning of section 2 and I went back and labeled chapter 1 as the beginning of section 1. As always, I would really appreciate any reviews. Or, if you want to talk about this story, you can message me._

_Hope you're enjoying the story and that this chapter was not too long,_

_SerpentineRazors_


	6. Omega and Alpha

**I own the rights to nothing. This is written purely for fun and not for monetary gain in any way, shape, or form. No copyright infringement intended. **

**Chapter 6: Omega and Alpha**

Var ran. That was all he could think to do. He continued running for what seemed like forever, until a storm rolled up. He knew he would not last long out here exposed to the elements, so he looked for some place he could take shelter. He figured any pursuing guards would be as slowed by the storm as he was.

A cave presented itself and Var entered. Spider webs clung to the walls, but something as mundane as that no longer frightened Var. Frostbite spiders would not hinder their Matron's Champion. Indeed, he eventually encountered the nest and none of the arachnids acted aggressive towards him. He thought it best not to push his luck and plunged further still into the cave. Eventually he came to the heart of the cavern and found an abandoned bandit camp. It seemed to be set up just for him. A decent bed was present along with a small hot spring he could use for bathing. The source of the spring also warmed up the air, making it a rather comfortable place to rest.

Var spent the next few days enjoying the comforts of the spider cave. He had enough food in his pack to last awhile and his neighbors supplemented his diet of bread and cheese with game they had apparently caught for him. He was nervous the first time the spiders ventured into his part of the grotto, but they merely nudged a rabbit in his direction and scuttled away. Namira had said darkness took care of its own.

Var slowly lost track of time, he could not see the sun from his sanctuary and time seemed to cease to exist in the dark. After his beard had begun to grow out, his solitude was broken. He woke with a start at the sound of a female voice.

"You are becoming accustomed to the gloom of shadow, are you not, Var?"

"I...well, I have not been uncomfortable."

"Naturally. But, the time for rest is drawing to an end, dearest one. I have arranged another task for you."

"Another task? What... what became of Whiterun after we used the staff on the farms?"

Namira laughed softly, and grinned wickedly at Var. "Ah, Whiterun. That place is quite a mess after your little escapade. Famine has begun to take its toll on the city, and the surrounding areas. The shockwaves have not yet spread to all of Skyrim, but when the food stores dry up... I imagine there will not be a soul in Skyrim who is not hungry."

"I... I see." Var was having difficulty understanding what it was he was feeling. When he thought of all the people, all of the war lords and vain nobles who would suffer because of what he did, he was glad. A sadistic glee blossomed in his heart. But, at the same time, he felt guilty for all of the innocents who would starve, all of the honest Nords and young children. Did they deserve to starve? Was it better for them die of hunger than to spend a life in pointless toil? But... was not all of life cruel? Wasn't he just being as cruel as anyone or anything else? Beyond these feelings of joy and sorrow at the pain of others, Var also felt an almost overwhelming sense of happiness because of the pride in Namira's voice. Someone approved of Var and thought his life had value. He loved Namira, as a child loves his mother, and at that moment he would have ventured into Oblivion itself to hear the approval in her voice again.

Namira had taken physical form in the cave; she again appeared as a raven haired young woman. This time she was garbed in what appeared to be a burial shroud. The white fabric preserved her modesty as she sat perched on a rock and conversed with her disciple. In her lap, was what appeared to be a set of grayish robes, she was busy sewing them and only glanced up occasionally to peer at Var.

"Anyway, you will have an opportunity to see what you did firsthand later, now we need to talk about your next chore. You are going to Solitude, to... recruit someone to our cause."

"What do you mean? Is this person a worshiper of yours?"

"Not exactly, though I have dealt with her in the past. Listen carefully to me, Var. The person you are going to deal with is incredibly dangerous and unimaginably powerful. If she will aid us, she will be an invaluable ally. If, however, she turns on you, I will be unable to save you. I feel almost certain that if you approach her the right way, she will come over to our side. But, you must be incredibly cautious."

"Yes, of course. I will be careful. Who exactly will I be speaking with?"

"I am sure you have heard of her, Potema, the Wolf Queen."

The name was familiar to Var, but only vaguely. She was an ancient queen of Skyrim, but hadn't she been dead for hundreds of years?

"I am still not sure I understand. Isn't Potema dead?"

"Aye, she was. But, necromancers like her have a way of popping back. Some conjurers were trying to bind her spirit, but were interrupted. Now, her soul lurks in the catacombs under Solitude. She is not yet able to take physical form, but soon she will be. You will go and meet her. You need to convince her that it will be worth her while to aid me."

"How am I supposed to do that? What do I say?"

"Offer her some of my power. You can use the ring to grant her a physical body. If that is not enough, let her know my forces are gathering in Skyrim and that joining us is her best opportunity for regaining any of her former power."

Var was puzzled by what Namira had just said. Her forces were gathering in Skyrim? What did that mean?

"Your forces are gathering in Skyrim?"

Namira chuckled softly, and spoke in an amused tone. She looked down at the garment she was working on and continued to speak. "I told you I saw great opportunity on the horizon for us, Var. I was not lying. I am hoping that in the near future the influence of my realm will be greatly increased in this frozen wasteland of a country. In time, you will see what I mean. Acquiring Potema's allegiance is the first step towards that goal. Her necromantic power will be a super weapon added to our arsenal."

Var nodded. He still did not fully understand, but thought it best not to push the issue further. It was better to just do as he was told and focus on the task at hand, talking to an undead High Queen was enough to worry about for now.

"What do you want me to do?"

"Go to Solitude and find the Hall of the Dead there. Potema should be easy enough to find. Be cautious, I'm sure she will be more than a little wary of visitors."

Namira slid down from the boulder she had been sitting on and tossed the drab gray robes to Var. They were similar to the black robes she had previously provided for him save for the color and their silky texture.

She smiled. "Well, do you like them? Spider silk robes are rather hard to come by, few outside Valenwood know the art of weaving spider thread. "

Var was surprised and flattered that Namira, a God, had taken the time to actually make him something. No one had ever made something just for him before, let alone given it to him as a present. He smiled softly and nodded.

"Yes, thank you... they look very warm."

Namira laughed and rolled her eyes. "Indeed. Well, why don't you try them on?"

Var paled slightly. His pensive nature had always made him rather modest, and he had only on a few occasions disrobed in front of a woman before, barmaids in his younger days. Apparently, he had paused too long for Namira laughed again and began speaking.

"You know, Var, I can see into your very mind now. You have given yourself to me, do not ever forget that. This embarrassment is rather silly, I'm not even female in the sense you seem to think. Now, change. I need to make sure you do not look too conspicuous when you go to Solitude."

Var nodded and began changing. He knew she was right, she was a Goddess. Him being embarrassed for her seeing his body was ridiculous. She saw everything. After dressing he gazed at his reflection in the spring. The water was almost like a mirror. He was taken aback by the figure he saw gazing back at him. He rarely thought about his appearance, such things had always seemed trivial. He knew he had brown hair, dark brown eyes, and was of average Nord build, but beyond that he never paid much attention to what he looked like. He kept his hair to shoulder length, though that was more a matter of practicality than fashion. He also shaved rather regularly; having a beard was a safety hazard in his line of work.

Despite all of this, the figure glaring back at him was different than any image of himself he had ever seen. The man was incredibly thin, so much so as to appear sickly. A scraggly beard grew from the gaunt face, and the eyes had a certain malevolent darkness about him. The robes were striking; there was an exquisite murkiness to them.

Soundlessly, Namira came from behind Var and draped a matching cloak about his shoulders. She moved her arms around his neck to fasten the simply iron clasp. As always, her touch was icy.

He turned to face her and she handed him a fresh travelling satchel, before delivering further instructions.

"Ah, perfect. I think you will blend in well enough. Now here are some supplies for your journey. You actually ran rather far from Whiterun, you are near the Karth River. Solitude is less than a day's journey from here. Feel free to use the roads, the food shortage has forced both armies to cut back on patrols."

Var blinked, and he was alone again. He was disappointed, he had wanted to speak with Namira longer. Still, he needed to begin his work. He found that the pack contained little food, and was filled with many flawless gemstones. He was puzzled at first then realized their purpose, bribes.

He left the cave and found it was night. He was grateful, for the bright moons stung his eyes. He hated to think of what the sun would do. He quickly took off for Solitude. He had no map and no knowledge of the area, but the ring seemed to be pulling him in what he assumed was the right direction.

His mind wandered and it seemed only minutes passed before he arrived at the gates. A guard stood watch and left his fellow to approach Var.

"Halt. The city is closed. Unless you have a writ of passage you best be turning back the way you came."

"I do not have any writ. But, perhaps we could work something out?"

Var opened his pack and allowed to guard to peer at the gems. The heavily armored figure laughed.

"What do I need jewels for? No one is buying shiny rocks when bread is a thousand septims a loaf!"

Var paused for a moment, unsure what to do, and considered his options. A plan formed in his mind.

"I am here to help with the necromancy problem, the one involving the former queen. The Jarl sent for me."

The guard stuttered and took a step back.

"Uh... what? No one informed me... do you have a writ from one of the Thanes?... no one but the guards knows about that... sure, come in."

The guard made a gesture to one of his fellows in a watch tower, and the gate was promptly opened. Var asked the shaken man where the Temple was and then made for that direction. Inside, a bearded priest stood watch over the door to the hall.

"What business do you have here, stranger?"

"I'm here to help with the necromancy problem."

"Heh, do you expect me to believe that? Falk would not have sent you without telling me."

Var flashed the bag of gems to the priest, and the elderly cleric snatched the bag away. The old man gave Var a wicked grin.

"Ah, I see. Well, head on in if you like. It's you're funeral."

Var ignored the old man and proceeded into the crypt. Var could almost feel the power resonating in the dark halls; it was if there was an electric charge in the air. It was not long before he came upon draugr. They approached him and he raised his right hand. The ring seemed to pulsate with energy and the undead went back to their patrols. The ring was a potent tool indeed.

He continued deeper and deeper into the abyss of Potema's catacombs. The energy in the air got stronger and stronger. He entered into a vast chamber with many corpses upon the floor. Lightning flashed across the ceiling and an orb of energy floated high in the center of the tomb. A strange and power filled voiced came from the necromantic sphere.

"Who dares enter into my domain?"

"My name is... I am an agent of Namira."

Potema made a dismissive snarl and her tone became angrier. "Namira? What does that backwards harlot of a Daedra want?"

"We... she wishes for your help."

A horribly cackling filled the chamber and the lightning intensified. "Help?! Ha! Why should I, the great Wolf Queen of Skyrim, help the lowliest of Princes?"

"She said she would help you regain physical form, if you would agree to help her."

Silence filled the room and the crackling energy stopped entirely. After several moments, Potema spoke again.

"Hmmm, an interesting offer. Yes... I suppose now I can see what she has been up to. Her sundry fingerprints are all over my country... I should have realized sooner... "

"Is that a yes?"

"Patience, little mortal. You may be the voice of a Daedra, but I am the greatest Necromancer in the history of Skyrim. Now, extend your hand. I will take what is mine before I move an inch to help your Matron."

Var did not have to move his hand; the ring pulled his right hand upwards. A blood red miasma flowed from the ring and into the specter of Potema. The orb fell from the ceiling and became crimson smoke when it hit the floor. A sickening gurgling sound filled the room as the smoke began to shift into a humanoid form. Minutes passed and eventually the smoke cleared. A crone of a woman stood before him garbed in rags. She spoke in a hoarse raspy voice.

"Ah, to have a body again. Not as fair as I'd have liked, but rearrangements can be made later. I suppose you'll be wanting something from me now, yes?"

"Um... well, the Lady did not mention any specifics to me."

Shadow slowly engulfed nearly the entire room and an ethereal voice filled the air.

"Ah, Potema. The ages have not been kind to you, fallen queen."

Namira laughed wickedly.

Potema smirked, "Nor to you, Prince of Slugs."

* * *

_Author's Note_

_Hey, all. Thanks to both "bob" and "joey grey" for reviewing! To answer your question, Joey, I would say that I think it just depends on the author in question and what they are trying to convey. I know I have seen it done both ways before. In any case, I know that some of my capitalization is inconsistent, especially in the earlier chapters. In the beginning, I was tossing around different ideas of how I wanted to capitalize divine references. When I go back and edit the story, I'll make everything mesh up. Sorry if it is a distraction!_

_As always, I would love more reviews! They really do make my day. What do you think of the story? Is my Namira acting in a believably godly way? Does the moral position of Var make sense?_

_Thanks for reading,_

_SerpentineRazors_


	7. The Demon and the Devil

**I own the rights to nothing. This is written purely for fun and not for monetary gain in any way, shape, or form. No copyright infringement intended. **

**Chapter 7: The Demon and the Devil**

Namira never materialized in the room to Var's eye, and he did not hear her voice again. The aged figure of Potema began speaking in a tongue Var did not understand and could not even begin to recognize. She paused at times, and seemed to be responding back to someone. The dark presence had not left the chamber, so Var assumed Namira must be speaking to Potema telepathically. He wondered if his conversations with Namira also only occurred mentally. He would have to ask her later.

Var remained silent and after some time Potema's gaze fell directly on him. Keeping her eyes on him, she uttered what sounded like a question to Namira, then nodded slowly. The air in the tomb lightened as the fell presence dissipated, and Potema began using common speech again.

"Well, my lord, I have just been briefed by the Lady and will now depart from the city. I will marshal what forces I can in the west and fortify as many forts as possible I know there are many necromancers that will join us and I have high hopes for the forsworn and the vampires as well. "

Var's mouth fell open slightly as he struggled to understand what was just said. Did she actually call him "lord"? She seemed to expect some sort of response, so he hurriedly formulated what seemed like an appropriate answer.

"Umm, well, good. Did... the Lady say anything else?"

Potema seemed a little surprised at that, and gave him a suspicious glare. "I am not her Champion, you are. She did not say anything else to me, beyond the terms of my and her arrangement. Did you have any more orders for me before I depart? It is probably best neither of us to linger here, they are sure to send down exorcists eventually."

Var now realized that he was of a more elevated status than Potema. He, a lowly Nord man, was superior to one of the most powerful Necromancers in history. A mixture of pride and anxiety washed over him, but there was little he could do about it now. All he could do was follow his orders and do his best to accomplish what goals Namira gave him.

"No, I do not have any more orders for you... you are dismissed."

Potema bowed her head slightly, and then disappeared in a flash of violet lightning.

Var was unsure of what to do next. Should he wait in the crypt for Namira to speak again? Or venture out the way he had come and leave the city? The ring encouraged him to depart, so he reluctantly did so. He was concerned about having to explain himself to the local authorities if they had been alerted of his journey into the catacombs.

The Draugr had all returned to being lifeless corpses and the ominous energy was no longer in the air, so the trek out was less tiresome than the one in. Before long, he emerged from the tomb and found a number of guards waiting for him on the other side of the Hall's door, along with a rather well dressed Nord man.

A number of the guards drew their bows and aimed them at Var. The others unsheathed their swords and assumed defensive positions around the lone unarmed figured in the center. The Nord appeared to be of some sort of nobility, but was otherwise common in appearance. He looked at Var somewhat fearfully, but maintained an authoritative posture.

The man began speaking to Var, being careful to remain behind the defensive line of guards.

"We were just about to come in after you, stranger. You know, lying to a representative of justice in Solitude is a crime and so is entering the city while we are in a state of emergency. Do you have anything to say for yourself before you are placed under arrest?"

"I took care of the problem in the Hall"

A look of surprise flashed across the man's face, before he regained his composure.

"Well now, is that so? How did you manage that one?"

Var thought about lying, but the ring discouraged that. Better to just be vague.

"My methods are my own, but the Wolf Queen will not be bothering you anymore."

"Hmm, a cryptic answer. But, it is true that no more Draugr have come up from the catacombs. Pardon my lack of introductions. I am Falk Firebeard, steward to Jarl Elisif. Who are you, stranger? Are you some sort of sorcerer?"

It seemed wise to just agree, but the ring was adamantly against that. "No, I am a... priest."

Falk seemed skeptical. "A priest? What sort of priest?"

"I serve one of the Deadra, Lady Namira."

At that the steward gasped and looked at Var with both revulsion and fear. "What?! Daedra? I... umm... what business do you have in Solitude? Daedra worship is not tolerated in Haffingar, outsider. We do not want the kind of help you offer."

"I was going to take my leave anyway."

"By Oblivion you are. You are herby under arrest, for lying to a public official, entering the city under false pretenses, desecration of the dead, and blasphemy."

Immediately the guards moved in on Var. They confiscated his dagger and bound his hands. He was then lead out of the Temple and towards the Castle Dour. It was well into the night and no townsfolk were about to interfere or gawk. As they neared the doors to the fortress, Var heard someone calling out behind him. The man appeared to be fairly young, and wore court colors.

"Lord Firebeard! Lord Firebeard", the young man spoke with urgency. His bug eyed expression revealed his youth.

Falk frowned at the boy, irritation clear in his tone. "What is it? Can't you see I'm escorting a prisoner?"

"It's from the Jarl herself, sir." The boy handed a slip of paper to the steward.

Falk scanned the document and scowled before shoving it into his front pocket.

"Men, escort the captive to the Blue Palace."

Var was not sure what to think. He had little experience with court matters. Was it unusual for the Jarl to summon a criminal to the Palace? Was he to be interrogated? Was she going to pass judgment on him herself? Var could not even begin to know. They walked briskly to Palace and Var was hurried into the throne chamber. It was a relatively simple room, though lavishly decorated and with impeccable stonework. The guard threw him down on his knees before who he assumed was the Jarl.

She was beautiful. She possessed the fairest of Nord features and had striking grey blue eyes. The flush of youth was on her face, though she appeared careworn. Her garb was simple and elegant. Most surprisingly to Var was the look she gave him, she appeared worried.

Her voice was as lovely as her appearance. "Why is he bound? I told you to collect him, Falk, not arrest him. Guards, cut him loose. I will not have the savior of Solitude chained like a horse thief."

The guards quickly obeyed, one moved behind Var and sliced the rope holding his arms with a dagger. Var rose to his feet, the stone floor was uncomfortable to kneel on and his arms needed to be stretched. The Jarl's actions shocked him. He thought it best to reciprocate her kindness.

Respectfully, Var addressed Elisif, "Thank you, lady."

"Oh, I think it is I who should be thanking you. Is what my guards say true? Did you really do away with that specter in the Hall of the Dead?"

Var nodded.

Elisif smiled at him. "Oh, thank you so very much. I did not even begin to know what to do about it, the few guards we sent in never came out and more and more draugr were attacking the city."

Var thought it strange that the Legion had not acted. Was not General Tullius himself stationed in the city? "My lady, couldn't you have turned to the Imperial forces for aid?"

The Jarl frowned and looked nervous. "It... it is best not to alarm the Empire rashly."

Var decided to drop the issue; she seemed not to want to discuss it. "Well, I was happy to deal with it for you, my lady."

She smiled again. "We, I, am in your debt... um, what is your name?"

"Var."

"Yes, Var. The city of Solitude owes you a great deal. I would like to offer you what hospitality I am able. You will stay at the palace tonight."

Falk interrupted. "But, Jarl Elisif, he is a daedric priest. You know the la -"

Elisif glared at her steward and did not hesitate to interrupt him. "Do I need to remind you that I am the Jarl of Haafingar, Falk? My word is the law. Now, it is getting late. Have our guest escorted to one of the rooms in my wing; I'll not have the Thalmor or our Imperial guests stealing him away in the night."

With that, the Jarl stood and left the throne room. Begrudgingly, the steward led Var to one of the guest suites of the palace, glancing fearfully at him all the while. The room was more lavish than anything Var had ever experienced before. It was late; he washed up, ate a light dinner, and put his robes back spider silk stayed remarkably clean. He heard a light rapping on the lone door to his chamber.

Cautiously, Var opened the door. Jarl Elisif stood before him. She no longer wore her regal court garb and was dressed in a simple yet conservative blue night gown.

She smiled softly at him, but looked somewhat fearful. "Can I come in? I wanted to speak with you, but could not in front of Falk or the guards."

Var nodded and ushered her inside. He was not sure what to think and a number of feelings muddled his mind. He wondered what she, a Jarl, could possibly want with him. And, though he tried to suppress it, lust grew in his heart. Even in her modest gown she was stunning. However, what he was most concerned with was what Namira wanted him to do here. Did she intend for him to talk to Elisif or was this some sort of accident? The ring did not seem to prefer any course of action over another, so he decided to just be cautious.

A small dining table with two chairs was present in the room. Elisif sat at one and Var joined her at the other. Her eyes held a mixture of worry and hope as she spoke to him.

"I just cannot thank you enough for what you did today. No matter who you are, you did save the city. If it had gone on for much longer, General Tullius would have found out. There is not a doubt in my mind that he would have used Potema as an excuse to declare martial law. I had a hard enough time maintaining my rule with the famine ... Is... is it true what Falk said though, are you a daedra worshiper?"

"Yes, I am. I'm something of a priest to the Lady Namira."

"Namira... isn't she the Matron of Beggars?"

Var nodded. "Among other things."

"I imagine it must be hard, to practice a religion most others scorn... I do know how that feels."

Var shrugged. "I have my God, and she watches over me, that is enough."

Elisif looked at him with a sort of reverence. "I can respect that. The bans on Talos worship have made me question everything. I sometimes do not even know how I live with myself allowing the Imperials to occupy our city and the elves to persecute my people. Still, if I did not give in they would just slaughter and enslave us. But, is living in oppression any better than death? I just do now know anymore... and more than anything, I wonder, why does Talos not answer our prayers? I cannot tell you how many nights I've spent knelt with my amulet, and still no answer. "

Var felt a tinge of pity for the woman, not because of her suffering but because she was so blind. Why did she keep praying to a god that never answered back? And besides that, did she not see how futile her prayers were? The ring warmed on his finger and malice filled his mind. Someone needed to open her eyes.

"You know, if it was not the Imperials and Thalmor it would be something else. There is always something threatening us, some doom around the corner."

She seemed surprised and hurt by that response. "Wh... what?"

"Think about it. If the Empire did not occupy your land and the Aldmeri Dominion was not a threat, would you be safe? Would upstarts like Ulfric still not want to seize your power? Would famines and plagues not come? Would darker forces than the elves seek dominance?"

"I... I just want what is best for my people."

"Why?"

"Um... I just do. I am their Jarl, it is my respon-"

Var chuckled at her then. How could she not see how pointless it was?

Elisif seemed to be close to tears then, and spoke while trying to hold them back.

" My country is my life, I want them to succeed and prosper. What is so wrong with that? Why do you laugh at me?"

"What's wrong is that it will never happen. No matter how large your kingdom grows, it will eventually fall. No matter how happy your people are, eventually their joy will fade. No matter how notable your rule is, the memory of it will eventually diminish and disappear."

The Jarl grew silent and her face became pale. A look of horror flashed on her features. Var contemplated her. Her mental state was not all that good to begin with, the death of her husband and the threats to her kingdom grated on her mind. Someone telling her all her efforts were for naught was the final nail in the coffin. She had given into despair.

Var grinned cruelly at Elisif. The ring was pleasantly warm on his finger and a feeling of vitality pulsed through his body. The woman before him was ensnared in web of darkness and misery. All he needed to do was deliver the final blow.

_Author's Note_

_Wow, thanks to everyone who reviewed! As always, I would love more. I'm really curious to see what you guys think of this chapter, as it is a bit of a departure from the previous ones. "bob" commented that Var has very little dialogue so I decided to give him a bit more in this chapter. Him not speaking much was intentional, as the focus of the story is really on Namira. I see this story as being an exploration of how her realm and religion work, as told from the perspective of one of her worshipers. And, obviously he does not speak much when she is around, as she can pretty much tell what he is thinking without him saying it._

_Thanks for reading,_

_Serpentine Razors_


	8. The Avatar and God

**I own the rights to nothing. This is written purely for fun and not for monetary gain in any way, shape, or form. No copyright infringement intended. **

**Chapter 8: The Avatar and God**

Elisif had grown pale and her eyes held the despair of the void in them. Var could see his words had pushed her over the edge. Elisif now saw Namira's truth. The ring felt comfortably warm on his hand, he knew that his mistress was pleased.

Words came to him and he spoke. "Why don't you lie down, my child?"

Elisif only nodded, before rising and then walking over to the bed. She did not bother to pull back the covers, and immediately closed her eyes and appeared to drift into sleep. Var then began to ponder just how odd the whole situation was. Why was she obeying him? Why did her emotions seem so malleable? Another power must be at work here. His suspicions were confirmed when the room darkened and a voice entered his mind.

"You have done so very well, dearest one."

"Thank you... but what am I supposed to do now? And why was the Jarl so easy to manipulate?"

Namira laughed. "Ah, I told you my ring was potent, did I not? Every mortal has fears that lurk in the back of their mind; you now have the power to bring those fears into focus."

"Well, what do I do now though? I can't imagine this sorcery lasts forever, what do I do when she wakes up?"

Namira laughed again. "She is not going to wake up, Var. You will see to that."

"You want me to murder her?!"

Namira's tone darkened. "No, I want you to sacrifice her in my name. Give into your deepest and most revolting desires. Remind the world why they fear the dark. "

Var felt a sudden weight in his front pocket. Startled, he reached in to find out what foreign object had just appeared on his person. It was a small vial containing a milky white liquid.

Namira materialized in the room. Cloaked in shadow, she approached Var. Her dark eyes were ice cold as grinned.

"Use that once you are done. It should grant you enough invisibility to make your escape."

She extended the hilt of a dagger to Var, it was the one earlier confiscated by the guards. He took the blade, and her presence in the room vanished. He was alone with the sleeping Jarl.

Var felt numb, there was not stopping what he was about to do. Part of him was excited about it, a sadistic joy was about to be had. The other, and smaller, part was disgusted. He was going to kill an innocent woman in cold blood. No matter what he thought though, there was no opposing Namira.

He took the blade in his right hand and walked beside the bed. Elisif was sleeping before him. He pulled her hair back away from her neck and rested the blade on her soft skin. He took a breath, before slashing her throat.

Her eyes opened wide and she choked, gurgling on her own blood before falling into death. What happened next was a blur of gore and darkness. He painted the walls with her blood and tore her flesh to pieces. Hours passed like moments, and the room was now the most horrific thing Var had ever seen. His own flesh felt cold and the ring almost burned on his hand.

He kept his mind focused on one thing, Namira's will must be done. If she told him to do something, no matter how sickening, he had to do it. His cloak was stained crimson with Elisif's blood; he would have to leave it. He tossed the spider silk cloak onto the bed, before guzzling the potion provided by Namira. In a flash, his body was invisible.

He quickly departed from the room and walked in darkness out of the palace. Some doors he passed were locked, but he merely tapped them the ring and they opened for him. The ring was potent indeed. He left the city and made for the first cave he found. Draugr infested the cave, but did not bother him. The dead knew their own.

The potion wore off and he sat on one of the crypts, trying to process everything that had happened. How could he live with himself? What had come over him?... and why had he enjoyed it so much?

A cold hand touched his shoulder and Var pulled away. The fell god laughed at him.

"What is the matter, Var? After all we've been through, are you starting to have second thoughts?"

He stood and turned to face Namira. She was not as lovely as she once was. She looked older and her features were harsher. The eyes though, they were the same, still dark as the abyss and eerily knowing. Rich black robes clothed her unholy form.

Weakly, Var began to speak. "I... I do not want to do this anymore. Find yourself another champion."

Namira cackled and drifted closer to him. "Do you really think it is that easy, Var? I told you before, there is no going back. You belong to me. Your body, your mind, and your very soul are my property. Now, be honest with me. Was it really all that bad? Did you not enjoy flaying that accursed daughter of the day? You and I both know she had it coming."

In his heart, Var agreed with Namira. He always had resented the noble elite in their lavish palaces. Still, his actions horrified him. So much blood.

Namira continued. "Tsk, tsk, tsk. You know, my dearest one, I had such high hopes for you, and now you are starting to... disappoint. Perhaps it would be better if I just lef-

Var interrupted his God. As much as he hated what she had made him do, he could not bear the thought of her leaving. He needed her.

"NO! Please... please don't go."

She smiled softly at him, and stroked his cheek. This time he did not pull back.

"Ah, that is better. It can be hard to stomach at first, I know, but you will grow accustomed to the... more dramatic aspects of my realm in time."

She pulled him into an icy embrace, pressing his head into her bosom as a mother does her child, stroking him soothingly. She then pulled back and looked at him hypnotically. His eyes held a cold obedience. He no longer had any doubts. He was a servant of Namira; he would do her will no matter where that led him.

Namira licked her lips. He was hers completely. "Now, we have much to discuss, my champion."

Var nodded. "Tell me what to do, my Goddess."

"For too long Tamriel has existed in caustic light, we will pull them into the harsh comfort of darkness. Potema gathers our forces in the west; I need you to spread our influence in the east. Go to Riften and acquire the allegiance of the Thieves' guild. I have a job I will need them to perform."

"It will be done."

Namira smiled in approval, and then dissipated into shadow.

Var readied himself and left the cave. The journey to Riften would take some time, and the sooner he accomplished his task the better.

The doubts that had lurked in his mind before were no longer there. His faith in Namira was unwavering. She was the one who gave meaning to his life, without her he was nothing.

**_Author's Note_**

**_Sorry for not updating in a couple of days. This chapter was hard to write. So, what do you guys think? Do you like how the story is going? _**

_**(Update: Got my names, thanks to those who submitted them!)**_

**_Thanks for reading,_**

_**SerpentineRazors**_


	9. The Nephew and the Sister

**I own the rights to nothing. This is written purely for fun and not for monetary gain in any way, shape, or form. No copyright infringement intended. **

**_Part 3. The End of All Hope _**

**Chapter 9: The Nephew and the Sister**

The road was harder than it had been before. Guards stalked the main highways, and Var often had to take rougher routes. He began to worry he was going off course, but the ring pulled him onwards. Also he was forced to swim across a number of waterways, and in the cold this was no easy task.

His journey did not get easier. He came to a mountain that he was forced to climb. The cold was intense and the wind made it more so. He knew Riften was in the southeast, but the ring was adamant about going up this icy peak. Fortunately, he came upon some stairs that eased his passage. He wondered if they led to some abandoned fort, he hoped Namira was leading him to a place to rest.

Higher and higher he climbed. At the summit, it became less snowy and more bearable. However, he was not put at ease when he reached the top of the stairs. A stone altar stood before him and behind that a massive statue. The statue was horrifying. It depicted a demonic looking man with four colossal arms. The nightmarish figure sat perched above an ominous stone door.

The ring jerked him forward and forced him to place his hand upon the foreboding altar. A deep and sonorous voice boomed into his mind.

" Gah, another mortal! Who dares bring that accursed ring into this holy place?"

Var jerked his hand back. He was cautious, but not overly frightened. He knew his mistress watched over him.

"I am the Champion of Namira."

"Hmm, is that so? Yes, I suppose you are... my, my my, you and my sister have been rather active lately, haven't you? I rather enjoyed watching what you did in Solitude, little mortal.

Var now realized he must be speaking to one of the other Daedra, and that this was his shrine. He thought it best to be polite, but not to grovel overly. As Namira's champion he figured he had at least a little clout.

"Aye, we have been. Though, I am not sure why she led me here."

The daedra laughed. "That bitch was probably just trying to goad me. My presence in this world has greatly diminished over the past two hundred years. My cult, the Mythic Dawn, is almost nonexistent. Hardly anyone has visited this temple in the past century, until recently, of course."

Ah, now Var was certain who he was talking to. He mentally cursed himself for not recognizing the figure. The daedra he was speaking to was Mehrunes Dagon, the orchestrator of the Oblivion Crisis. It was probably best not to linger in the presence of this violent entity. He also did not like hearing anyone, even another deity, insult his God.

"Well, I did not mean to disturb you, my lord. I will just be on my way then."

"Now, there is no reason to be so hasty, child. Your matron and I are... I suppose friendly would be the appropriate word. Her realm and mine at times overlap, and I rather approve of what you've been doing. "

Var was unsure how much he should trust Mehrunes Dagon. Still, Namira did want him to come here. He would just have to be cautious.

Dagon spoke again. "I have a proposition I would like to make. I know of a weapon which may be of use to you and my sister."

"What sort of proposition?"

"My razor was recently stolen by an impertinent mortal. I know the dragonborn has wronged your mistress, and I have been similarly insulted. That dragon scum restored by blade and then turned it over to a wench by the name of Hjotra Vesuius. If you will kill Hjotra for me, I will grant you my razor."

Having another daedric artifact could be incredibly useful. This must have been what Namira wanted him to do here, speak with Dagon and then acquire the razor.

"Where can I find this woman?"

"The heretic is staying in Dawnstar, at her deceased cousin's house. She should be fairly easy to kill; she is no warrior and does not have the skill to wield my razor. You must act quickly though, she plans to leave within the week by ship."

"It will be done."

"Good. See that it is."

With that, the demonic voice left his mind. It was still early in the day, and after speaking with Dagon Var felt refreshed. He decided to go immediately to Dawnstar. It would be easy enough to find, the ring guided him and he had seen signs direction him to the town on his way to the shrine.

It was only just turning to evening when he arrived at Dawnstar. The house was easy relatively easy to spot; it bore flags with daedric symbols on them. He made his way up the steps, still not entirely sure what he would do. He had his dagger still; it would probably be easy enough to just stab the woman to death.

Before he could fully formulate his plan, the door to the home swung open. A woman garbed in simple yellow priest's robe stood before him. She was around his age, had short brown hair, and looked to be rather tired. Careworn wrinkles marred her face and there were a few of scars as well. She had the more delicate features of an Imperial and this clashed with her weathered appearance.

She gave him a worried glance and frowned. "Ah, I wondered when you would show up. Well, better come in a get out of the cold."

She turned and walked into the abode. Var could think of nothing else to do but follow. How did she know he was coming? Inside Var could see this was not so much a home as it was a museum. Glass cases lined the walls and banners similar to those outside hung about the one room house. The woman took a seat at a small table and took a drink from a mug.

Var walked to the table at sat at the other seat. Hjotra remained quiet, so Var decided to question her.

"Um, do you know who I am?"

The woman nodded. " I know enough. I am no expert, but any novice scholar of daedric magic can tell when one of your kind approaches." She glanced at the ring on his finger.

"Well, do you know why I am here?"

She nodded again. "Yes, I do. I should have been more careful, I suppose. I did not think he would be able to send someone after me so quickly. "

"You certainly seem... less aggressive than I imagined. You are not going to fight me?"

She sighed and shook her head. "No, I am not. There would be no point."

Var considered what to do. Should he just kill her now then? Before he could decide, she spoke again.

"You know, I pity you."

"Wh.. what?"

"Whatever reward he promised you, it will not be as you expect it to be. That is how he works; the Lord of Destruction makes false promises and tricks you into damning yourself. My family once served Mehrunes Dagon... he promised them eternal life in paradise... now they burn constantly in a never ending inferno..."

"I... I do not serve Mehrunes Dagon, I am the champion of Namira."

"It matters not. The Daedra are all the same. She will be your undoing then, and not just in this world. If you work for them, your soul becomes their property. You will be her slave until the ending of eternity."

He considered her words. Could there be any truth to that? Was Namira tricking him? She had been so kind to him, given him purpose and direction.

Hjotra sighed.

"You are so blind. I suppose I cannot blame you though, I used to dabble in conjuration. That was before I joined the Chantry of Akatosh."

"I am not blind! My lady has opened my eyes to the truth; you are the one who is blind."

"Think about this. Namira made you starve all of those people in Whiterun, she had you butcher the Jarl in Solitude, what makes you think y she will not eventually have you starved or murdered? The Daedra are only ever kind when they have a use for you. When you exhaust your purpose, you will face the harshness of the powers you play with."

Var stood up. He would not hear this slander anymore. He drew his blade from under his robes and brandished it at the woman.

The woman smiled softly and pulled an amulet out from under her robes and clasped it tightly.

She inhaled and exhaled deeply. "I am ready when you are."

He did not hesitate. He jabbed the blade into her chest and watched with cold satisfaction as her life faded away. The razor called to him. He found it in a chest at the foot of the bed. It was exquisite. The metal was unnaturally dark and seemed to absorb all heat in the surrounding air. He sheathed it, and hid it under his robes. He left his old blade in the chest of the priest. He no longer needed it.

There was a fair amount of gold in the house, he used it buy a horse from a local farmer. He then rode for Riften. He tried to suppress them, but doubts began again to enter his mind. Was there any truth to what the priest of Akatosh had said? Was he merely a pawn that was to be eventually tossed aside? He could not believe that. Namira loved him. He was special to her, she had said so. Because of her, he now wielded power most men could scarcely dream of.

The roads were less guarded now. Most holds did not have the military strength to police the highways as Haafingar did. He stopped during the day to rest and rode at night. Before long, he began to near the city. He slowed his horse and approached the gates, but was surprised by who greeted him.

Instead of a Nord guard in uniform, a rather unscrupulous looking dark elf walked up to meet him. The mer had a shifty look about him and was heavily armored. He drew his blade as he walked up to Var.

"Halt! And just who might you be?"

Var dismounted. This seemed suspicious. He decided to be as cautious and brief as possible.

"I have business in the city."

The elf snorted."What a surprise. I thought you were coming here just to say hello to the gate guards."

"Is the city closed? I did not realize the food shortages reached this far."

"Oh, it's closed alright. Not because of any food shortage, the city is under new management."

A number of other dunmer warriors had silently approached and now stood behind guardsman. In an instant, one drew his bow and fired a shot at Var's head. The arrow hit, the ring felt fiery hot, and the shot bounced back, spearing the bowman between his eyes.

The elves all took a step back and leader gawked at Var.

"I... what kind of magic was that?"

Var was surprised himself. Had the ring done that? He could sort that out later. Now he needed to attend to the task at hand.

"As I said, I have business in the city."

The elf nodded. "Alright, alright. Just no more magic. I'll escort you to the Jar- I mean the Steward, and you can talk it over with him."

"Steward?"

The elf nodded again. "Yes, the Wolf Queen placed Steward Mercer Frey on the throne."

**_Author's Note_**

**_Big thanks to the fabulous MissFabulous09 for giving me the name Hjotra!_**

**_As always, I would love if you would review the story and let me know what you think. _**

**_"bob"commented that it would be better if the relationship between Var and Namira was more about power and seduction than familial love. I disagree with this kind of thinking, because I see Namira as being different than other Daedra. To me, in the games she seems almost nihilistic and encourages her followers to be so as well. She is not like Mehrunes Dagon or Molag Bal and does not give extravagant gifts or relish in grand displays. If you read the book _****_The Beggar Prince_****_ in the games I think you will see what I mean. You can also read it on uesp .net_**

**_That is what I think makes Namira such an interesting character. She doesn't want power or influence; she just wants everyone to be miserable. Her world view is so alien, it is difficult to understand her motivations and character. It is also difficult to understand why anyone would want anything to do with her, which is what I think makes Var interesting. _**

**_Anyway, enough rambling. I do love to hear your thoughts and encourage criticism. That comment is was lead me to include Dagon in this chapter, I wanted to show the contrast between the two. _**

**_Thanks for reading,_**

**_SerpentineRazors_**


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